Big-breed logic

UK Barbados Nation - - NEWS -

THERE WAS A TIME when men un­der­stood proper logic. Women didn’t; their brains aren’t wired that way.

Like, my wife of over 40 years “fixes” the bed ev­ery morn­ing – smooth­ing out the lie-down sheet, fluff­ing the pil­lows and fold­ing the blan­ket into a lit­tle rec­tan­gle.

So ev­ery night you have to un­fold the thing, find the long side and hope­fully not put your mouth where your toes were the night be­fore. I lived “batchy” be­fore mar­riage and ev­ery­thing was left as slept in. Next night, shake out the dust and dog hair and you were ready to slum­ber.

I tell her this but she ig­nores me.

Nowa­days, how­ever, there’s a lot of big-breed logic go­ing around and men are as guilty as women. Take this en­counter be­tween Bert, an English Ba­jan, and

Ernie, a ba­sic Ossie Moore-type Ba­jan. Bert is us­ing fancy logic on Ernie:

Bert: “Say, Ernie, I’ll bet you five dol­lars that I can prove you aren’t here!” Ernie: “You mekkin’ sport. The bet on!” Bert: “Okay, you’re not in Florida, right?” “Right!” “And you’re not in Ari­zona, right?” “Right!” “So if you’re not in Florida or Ari­zona, you must be some­where else, right?” “Right!” “So if you’re some­where else, you can’t be here. Hand over my five dol­lars!”

That had Ernie off­set but he wasn’t beaten yet. So he said: “Wait a minute, I’m not in Florida, right?” “Right!” “And I’m not in Ari­zona, right?” “Right!” “So if I’m not in Florida or Ari­zona, I must be some­where else, right?” “Right!” “So if I’m some­where else, I can’t be here. So how the hell can I give you five dol­lars if I’m not here?”

Head ain’t brains! Ap­par­ently,

Adoni­jah pulled a big-breed logic re­cently. Some at­tor­ney claimed that from his ex­pe­ri­ence 96 per cent of peo­ple charged with crim­i­nal of­fences ad­mit­ted to us­ing cannabis. This im­plied to the lawyer that the drug plays a sig­nif­i­cant role in crim­i­nal be­hav­iour. Ado coun­tered that 100 per cent of convicts drink wa­ter.

Does drink­ing wa­ter then con­trib­ute to crim­i­nal be­hav­iour?


But Dr Trevor Shep­herd de­bunked this logic. Cannabis can have mind-al­ter­ing ef­fects on some peo­ple. Wa­ter doesn’t. And the clincher: “So, Ado, would you get on a plane to Mi­ami if you knew the pilot and co-pilot were high on ganja?” As com­pared to wa­ter, of course.

Be wary of big-breed logic. Peter Wick­ham would have us be­lieve that pro-ccj Mia Mot­t­ley win­ning the elec­tion in­stead of anti-ccj Stu­art was a “ref­er­en­dum of sorts” on Ba­jan sup­port for the CCJ. No way, Peter. Be­fore the elec­tion, Ba­jans were fo­cused on re­mov­ing an in­ef­fec­tive Govern­ment. The CCJ wasn’t an is­sue.

I read a novel re­cently where mar­i­juana use was heav­ily in­volved. Ap­par­ently, when you’re high, you think you have deep in­sights into all sorts of is­sues. Like, one stoned guy ob­served that rocks are hard while sand, which is made up of tiny rocks, is soft. He there­fore con­cluded that “hard and soft are re­ally the same thing”. (Let’s wish him luck con­vinc­ing his girl­friend of that!)

Could it be that mar­i­juana use is con­tribut­ing to all the fake logic go­ing around? Like men want­ing to use women’s bath­rooms be­cause they feel at that time they are women? I don’t know.

Any­how, I’m ask­ing the shoot­ers out there to lay down the guns and let the al­ready stressed peo­ple of Bar­ba­dos en­joy Christ­mas. Maybe next year some ac­tivist will start a lobby for the le­gal­i­sa­tion of mur­der, just like mar­i­juana.

Ac­tu­ally, it’s per­fectly log­i­cal. The big-ups say ex­e­cu­tion isn’t a de­ter­rent to mur­der. So it should be abol­ished.

Well, prison sen­tences cer­tainly aren’t a de­ter­rent to any­thing so why not abol­ish them too? ($30 000 per pris­oner per year to achieve noth­ing!) Le­galise mur­der and save on all those lawyer fees.

I con­tem­plated shoot­ing a grand­son last Tues­day. I was strug­gling with this col­umn. Fell asleep at the com­puter. He took the op­por­tu­nity to draw a funny face on the bald spot at the back of my head with a marker pen. Every­body laugh­ing.

On se­cond thought, I won’t shoot him. I’ll just pub­lish the name of that girl at school he’s se­cretly, and madly, in love with. Don’t mess with Grand­pas, boy!

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